


wanna hide in your light

by stormss



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Sharing Clothes, just....fluff. and more fluff., they're soft and in love that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormss/pseuds/stormss
Summary: The thing is, TK doesn'tmeanto make a habit of it. It just kind of happens.  (Three times TK steals Carlos' clothes, and one time Carlos retaliates).*Tarlos Week, Day 1:"Are you wearing my hoodie?" + Fluff
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 17
Kudos: 201
Collections: 9-1-1 Lone Star ▶ Carlos Reyes / Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand





	wanna hide in your light

**Author's Note:**

> happy tarlos week!! 
> 
> school has started taking over my life again, but i really wanted to get at least one of these prompts filled to celebrate these boys so! here we are!! the title comes from _worship_ by years & years.
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr!](https://reyesstrand.tumblr.com/)

_01._

Nobody ever told him how _boring_ medical leave could be. 

TK gets it; he was shot in the shoulder, after all, and even though he grumbles about not being able to work, he knows it's for the best when even putting on a shirt proves to be difficult for the first couple of weeks. But even with physical therapy and AA meetings and chatting for at least an hour a day with his mom when she hears about his accident, he's going stir-crazy without the adrenaline-inducing calls or the comfort that's just naturally there when he's around the team. And sure, he sees them all—Marjan drags him out for boba and a movie, or Judd threatens him with disappointing Grace if he doesn't come over for dinner at least once a week, or Paul picks him up so they can take Buttercup for one of his long weekend walks along one of the hiking trails he frequents. 

He isn't alone, not by a long-shot.

And it isn't like he's banned from the firehouse; he'll go over if he's truly exhausted all his other options to kill time, joining them for lunch or dinner or just to squeeze a light workout in. But it isn't the same. His dad knows it, and has stopped his overbearing mother-henning to instead send him motivational messages that could come from middle-aged woman's Facebook every morning he doesn't go along with him to the station. Despite it all, though, TK finds himself getting _better,_ in a way he didn't think possible—he finds himself falling harder for Carlos with every passing _hour,_ basically, and he's truly working things out with his dad. 

It doesn't mean he _isn't_ jumping for joy internally when he passes the doctor's tests, and he's told he can return to work. He still has to be mindful of his arm, but still—he's getting his _life back._ TK just grins and almost definitely has a skip in his step when he's leaving the medical building, brandishing his clean bill of health to his dad the moment he gets home from his shift. 

But it's all a longwinded way of saying this: he's _excited_ to get back to work, to help people, to be with his family. 

And so the last thing he wants to be is late. 

TK doesn't think too much about it as he tries and fails at multitasking, rushing around with his toothbrush in his mouth as he attempts to make himself _somewhat_ presentable by running his fingers through his hair. His main goal is trying to get to work on time after this seemingly _endless_ medical leave, and so clothes are just clothes to him. He spits in the sink and rinses his mouth with water before doing up his fly and buttoning up his jeans; he tries to stay light on his feet as he creeps around Carlos' room, trying not to wake him up, grabbing the first shirt he sees from where their stuff has started mixing all together on the chair in the corner of his boyfriend's room. 

"We still on for lunch?" Carlos asks, and TK jumps a little, placing his hand over his racing heart. 

He whirls around and comes face-to-face with a sight that would _normally_ lead to him forgoing any earthly responsibilities to spend more time in bed: Carlos, curls loose and unruly and falling against his forehead, eyes warm and glinting with a fondness that always seems to be there when his gaze falls on TK. 

And, well. TK smiles. Fucking _beams._ He briefly asks himself _how the hell do I deserve this life?_ before he hears his therapist's voice in his head, telling him not to be so down on himself. And so he lets himself smile like the love-struck fool he is—and he has to admit that he's finding himself doing that more often than not, these days. 

"I'd be insane to turn that offer down," TK says, voice slightly muffled from pulling his t-shirt over his head. He manages to get the shirt in place in time to catch Carlos dragging his eyes over him from head-to-toe, mouth quirking upwards just slightly. 

"Text me when it's a good time to come by, then," Carlos yawns, words barely out of his mouth, and TK bites on his bottom lip to fight off the grin at the sight of his adorably sleep-mussed boyfriend.

Like he's being magnetically drawn closer, TK rests a knee on the mattress, and leans in close. "I'm looking forward to it."

It's one of the most genuine things he's ever said. 

Carlos smiles at him, eyes crinkling like always, and before TK can duck in to properly kiss him, Carlos pulls back. "Morning breath." 

He looks at him teasingly, though, and even huffs a laugh when TK groans. He moves back so Carlos can get out of bed and head for the bathroom across the hall, and TK scrolls through a few notifications on his phone as the sink turns on in the next room. 

TK grins when Carlos appears in front of him a couple minutes later, framing his face between his palms, and kissing him before TK can complain any further. 

He grabs at Carlos' bare sides as they kiss, skin warm under his fingers, mere seconds away from getting lost in it completely when Carlos abruptly pulls back and glances at the clock, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

"Weren't you picking up Marjan?" 

TK's stomach drops. " _Shit."_

Carlos' laugh is something brilliant as it follows him out of the house, stopping long enough to grab an apple from the bowl in Carlos' kitchen. 

"Text me!" Carlos yells out to him, and TK makes some sort of agreeing noise before closing the front door behind him, jogging out to where he's parked his newish car along the curb. 

And so, because his boyfriend's cruel, it takes him until Marjan drops into his passenger seat and grins at him devilishly for him to realize that the shirt he'd picked this morning wasn't his, not at all. He should've clued in when he realized the sleeves were _definitely_ roomy, but it's become a bit of a thing over his time off—especially if he was staying with Carlos—to just wear whatever was comfortable. Which, for the most part, were Carlos' clothes. 

"Don't—" TK starts, but Marjan's already launched into it. 

"So _someone_ had a good night then, huh?" 

Marjan's laughing as she ruffles his hair, and he shrugs away from her, though his body's betraying him as a grin of his own spreads over his face. He feels his face go warm, his hands clutching at the steering wheel as he mutters: "I hate you." 

"And grass is blue," Marjan says, already fiddling with the radio dials. He rolls his eyes because it's annoyingly true—the day he _doesn't_ consider the woman next to him as his closest friend is the day everything natural will reverse. "Don't worry, lover boy, it's cute. _Domestic,_ even." 

TK doesn't want to comment about how it does calm him, a little, to know he's subconsciously brought a little piece of Carlos along with him for his first day back. Instead of saying anything, he just side-eyes her, and she tilts her head back and laughs. 

At the firehouse, after getting practically dog-piled in hugs from the whole team, TK makes it to the locker room and changes into his uniform; as he stuffs his clothes in his locker, he smiles a little as he runs his thumb over the ram emblem of the Texas University shirt he'd stolen from Carlos. Carefully, he tucks it away, and takes a deep breath as he heads out to meet properly with the team for the first time in months. 

* * *

_02._

Visiting his mom in her Brooklyn apartment had seemed like an amazing idea at first. 

And don't get him wrong—TK _loves_ his mom. He has a completely different relationship with her compared to the one he has with his dad, something he's worked hard to have ever since the divorce that rocked his world as a ten-year-old. It just—he misses Austin, which is something he didn't think he'd experience back when he followed his dad to rebuild a fire station almost a year ago. He misses it like a limb, and he misses his family, and—

Yeah. He misses his boyfriend. 

"Honey," his mom says, pressing her shoulder against his as they walk side-by-side through Red Hook, the late summer sun painting the neighbourhood in shades of pink and gold. She wears her dark hair in a haphazard bun to ward off some of the heat, and he's already stripped to just his t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and even still her expression is cool and effortlessly loving and unfazed. She seems to read it on his face, because Gwyneth might be the most observant person he knows, and she adjusts her sunglasses before nudging him again. "Tell me about him." 

"Mom—"

"I want to know," she explains, her teeth flashing as she grins at him. "He seems so sweet, he calls me _ma'am,_ Ty." 

TK feels some of the tension in his chest loosen. "He's just like that." 

With that, he launches into it: story after story of their three months officially together, along with some tidbits from when they first met. His mom listens intently and her smile grows softer and softer as they eat dinner and stroll past some boutiques on their trek back to her place. 

"Why don't you FaceTime him or something?" 

TK shrugs. "We text everyday, I mean—"

"It might be nice to actually see him," her voice sounds knowing, and it's in moments like these he understands how his parents got along so well for the majority of their marriage. "I _do_ remember what it's like to be in the honeymoon stage, after all." 

"We're not in the _honeymoon stage,_ mom," TK says, even though he's already wrestling his laptop out of his bag and unwinding the charging cable from its tangled state. "I'll be in my room." 

"I want to talk to him at some point!" She calls, as he laughs and makes his way into his childhood bedroom.

He'd spent most of his time with his mom as a kid, until he hit his late teens and longed for time with his father. The room is mostly unchanged—a little tidier and some posters removed for tasteful framed art, but it still feels like he's stepping into the past whenever he stays with his mom. He flops onto the bed and reaches over to plug in his laptop, opening FaceTime and selecting Carlos before he's even stopped to consider that he might be working, or hanging out with friends, or—

"—hey, Ty," Carlos grins at him, and TK physically feels himself relax. 

"Hey," TK says, and because he's apparently fearless over a call, he adds: "I miss you." 

Carlos' grin turns into that soft smile that seems to be reserved for TK. "I miss you, too." 

"I wish you were here," TK says, absently tracing his finger along his keyboard. "It would make this trip literally perfect." 

Carlos opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again, peering closer to the camera. Then he says, "I like your shirt." 

TK ducks his head down and sees that, unsurprisingly, he's got one of Carlos' t-shirts on, yet again. The logo's faded and the shirt is well worn in, making it stupidly comfortable and reminiscent of his warm boyfriend. "You've got good taste." 

"I know," Carlos replies, and TK snorts, his heart hammering away against his chest. 

It always seems to be like that, like some unspoken certainty: Carlos speaks, Carlos laughs, Carlos _looks at him_ like he usually does, and TK's heart feels like it might just break free from behind his ribs, like a moth drawn to the flame. 

* * *

_03._

"I think you're trying to rob me." 

"How is that possible, when we live in the same place?" 

Carlos rolls his eyes at him, but it's fondness personified. 

"I'm lucky you love me?" TK asks, voice laced with laughter as he steps more deliberately into Carlos' space. Carlos drags his eyes over him, and moves closer, so there's barely space to breathe between them. 

It's the first night TK's properly settled in, and it hits him sporadically, in waves, _they live together._ He's officially moved in, and this thing between them is as real as it could ever be. And so what if he grabs one of Carlos' crew-neck sweatshirts to laze around the house in? 

Carlos fists his hands in the material, right along his hips, and TK's grinning into it when they kiss. And kiss. And kiss.

Eventually the sweater ends up on the floor of Carlos'— _their_ —bedroom, but it's not like he's complaining about it. 

* * *

_+01._

The honky-tonk is slowly becoming as familiar to him as the firehouse. 

It becomes a tradition: to unwind after long, strenuous shifts, the whole team will meet up and drink and share bar food and exchange stories from the week. Eventually Owen will drag a handful of them out to the dance-floor and they'll laugh and laugh until it's time to call it a night. And as they've become closer, it's only become natural for Carlos to join them; for Grace to tag along whenever she's off-shift. 

It's where they sit now, in their usual table right near the makeshift stage the band plays from. TK's slowly working on an iced tea as he and Paul throw versions of tonight's risky rope rescue back and forth, both of them remembering the events completely differently. And it means that Paul, and probably the whole team, catches the exact moment when TK zones out as he watches his boyfriend slip into the bar, holding the door open for a couple of women strolling in behind him. 

He looks good. Well, _that's_ a given, really, but it gnaws at TK that Carlos looks good for a reason he can't quite place. 

"Hey everyone," Carlos says as he approaches the table, running his fingers through his curls in an attempt to wrangle them in place. The group welcomes him wholeheartedly, offering waves and tipsy exclamations, and Marjan perks up as the band starts up on some throwback to the nineties and demands someone goes to dance with her. Half the table follows, and TK just watches appreciatively as Carlos moves closer. "Hey, you." 

TK brushes his shoulder against Carlos'. "Hi, baby." 

Carlos steals some of TK's drink; when he's done, TK brings the straw up to his own mouth. 

But there's still something nagging at him, until it finally clicks. 

TK stops mid-sip, and cocks his head to the side, gesturing toward Carlos. "Are you wearing my hoodie?" 

He can't take his eyes off the way the unassuming maroon hoodie hugs every single muscle in Carlos' ridiculous arms, only barely too small along the shoulders. It sends a flare of warmth through TK's chest. 

"Yeah," Carlos says, settling down in the spot next to him. "Because _someone_ stole all of mine." 

TK grins. "You know, I want to say I'm sorry about that, but—" 

"You aren't," Carlos finishes his sentence, eyes crinkling with his smile, already leaning in to meet TK halfway. 

"Nope," TK says with a huff of a laugh, before kissing his boyfriend without a care in the world. 

He presses closer, hand flying up to gently curl against the curve of Carlos' jaw, and even when their friends return and start making obnoxious kissing noises at them, TK makes a point of pressing one final kiss to Carlos' mouth before pulling away. 

"Strickland," he says, capturing Paul's attention. "You and me, pinball. You on?" 

"Hell yeah, kid," Paul grins, already pushing away from the table and making a beeline for the pinball machine that was a new and popular addition to the honky-tonk. 

"See you in a bit?" TK asks, swivelling into Carlos' space as he stands. 

"You bet," Carlos says, pinching his hip before he runs off to meet with Paul. 

The night goes on like that, all of them lost in the easiness of being around one another. Paul gets the high score in pinball, and so TK buys the next round of drinks, and he spends the rest of the night pleasantly trapped under the weight of Carlos' arm, feeling more sure in his place here than anything else in his whole life. 

And that's all that matters. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! comments/kudos are always greatly appreciated <3


End file.
